


Reshuffle

by andlightplay



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Shadow of the Templar - M. Chandler
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:56:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andlightplay/pseuds/andlightplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Templar debate the results of American Idol season eight, and Mike has Feelings about Adam Lambert and has yet to learn to think before saying things in front of Simon. (set post-High Fidelity)</p><p>Originally <a href="http://andlightplay.livejournal.com/6066.html">posted on LJ</a> 28/07/10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reshuffle

**Author's Note:**

> [Kris Allen](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4nQV81do1Io).  
> [Adam Lambert](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHqLqnNRZQY).

Simon can hear his team's idea of a quiet discussion from halfway down the corridor, and rolls his eyes, pushing himself into almost-a-jog to cover the last few yards to the saferoom door. They're not shouting yet, at least, but they're definitely disagreeing. Fucking Jeremy - he'd have been here to stop this before it started if he hadn't been...well, fucking Jeremy. Heh. Hey, Jeremy had made a damn good case for staying in bed at the time and hell, he still feels all loose and relaxed and can't even bring himself to give a shit about what Team Hall will undoubtably have to say about this, but still, it means this happened because he wasn't here.

He pushes open the door.

"-was robbed!" Nate is saying forcefully, or as forcefully as Nate ever says anything, then blinks and turns towards the door. "Oh, hey Templar."

In days gone by, Simon's first response would naturally be "Who was robbed?", but unfortunately these days that's not such a good idea, because the word 'robbed' is one (of _far_ too many) that any member of his team can and will easily link back to-

"Oh~hoooo, someone's late this morning, boss!" Mike carols from the table, where he's got his seat tilted back so he can rest his feet on the tabletop. "Someone _steal_ your attention?"

"...Wow, that's actually quite good, for you," Simon says, choosing to ignore everything else Mike just said, including the implications about who else is in on Sandy's sneaky little plans, in the hopes it will go away. "You've been waiting to say that for ages, haven't you?"

"Yep!" Mike says happily, then scrunches up his face. "Aw man, now I gotta think of somethin' else witty and pointed to say for next time!"

"Yeah, better get going with that." It takes him a second, but then Mike yelps in outrage and Simon snickers. Anyway, now all that's out the way, he feels free to say, "So hey, what was that you guys were talking about before I came in?"

"Oh, well. Um. Last night was the American Idol final," Nate says, pushing his glasses up with a curled knuckle, "and the wrong guy won."

"He did not," Sandra says dismissively, waving a hand.

"Did," Jonny counters, and

"Wait, you watch American Idol, Texas?" Simon repeats, making sure he heard correctly, and Mike says

"Yeah, fucks your worldview right outta whack don't it?" as he flicks a foot out in roughly the direction of Johnny's face and Johnny catches it easily. "Did not."

Johnny raises his eyebrows and hefts Mike's ankle in both hands, pushing just enough to get Mike's chair teetering on its back legs. "Did," he says patiently, over Mike's stream of curses as he grabs for the edge of the table to keep his balance. "Adam shoulda won."

"He's got the better voice," Nate agrees. "And the stage presence."

"Aw Specs, is that I _crush_ I hear?" Mike coos, now safely anchored to the table. "Damn, and he's Jewish and everything!"

"Kris doesn't need all those frills," Sandra says, kind of smugly. "He just lets his talent speak for itself."

"He wears _plaid_ ," Nate says, like it's an affront to humanity, and scrunches up his nose in that way Simon has always very privately found pretty adorable.

"Adam wears _platform boots_! And _way_ too much foundation!"

"And glitter, don't forget the glitter," Mike chimes in, grating the chair back so it can settle back onto all four legs and pulling his foot from Johhny's grasp as he goes. Now he's out of Johnny's range, he pushes himself down and half-out of his seat as he tries to kick him from a safe distance. "Also, ain't no man should be able to sing that high 'less his balls been crushed."

"Yeah? You wanna test that?" Johnny asks lazily, sliding down in his own chair and already swinging his foot up, and Mike yelps again and shoves himself right down onto the floor to get away.

"Hey," Sandra says mildly, "Be careful there, Texas." 

Johnny smirks.

"My hero!" Mike flutters, knee-walking over to her and wrapping his arms around her legs, and Sandra looks down at him and arches her eyebrows. "On second thought, Texas..." she says slowly, and Mike makes a high-pitched noise of protest and dives under the table.

"Ain't right, man like you acting like such a pussy," Johnny agrees, idly kicking at him. "And while you're down there, wouldn't say no to-"

Mike explodes out from under the table just in time to spare them all the rest of the sentence, and Johnny's chair goes shooting backwards but somehow, miraculously, doesn't tip over.

"Okay!" Simon says loudly, smacking a hand down on the table. "Settle down kids, and if you're gonna fight then at least do it over something better than American Idol."

"Aw, boss, ain't nothing better than Idol!" Mike complains, crawling back to his seat and pulling himself up off the floor with remarkably good cheer. "Anyway, dude's a fag, thought you'd be all over that."

There's beat of silence, in which Mike suddenly looks like he wishes he could bite off his tongue and looks everywhere in the room but at Simon, and then Sandra cuffs him round the head, hard.

"Um," Nate says over Mike's stifled yip of pain, tugging his glasses off and huching right over as he rubs industriously at them with his shirt-tail, cheeks flushing pink, " _technically_ that hasn't actually been confirmed. But."

"He was tonguing the dude!" Mike insists stubbornly, staring down at the table, and Sandra rolls her eyes and hits him again.

" _Anyway_ ," Simon says, "I can see we've reached the Taking Potshots At My Private Life stage, and therefore it is definitely time to move the fuck on. Where's Stone?"

"Here," Dave says from the doorway, blinking at them all. "And I think I may have come in at a bad moment in the conversation."

"No Stone," Simon says wearily, waving him to his seat, "the entire thing was a bad moment, one which I'm gonna try to forget ever happened as soon as possible."

"Now boss, you know we won't let you do that," Sandra says with cheerful malice, and Simon tries to pretend he isn't fervently wishing to be somewhere (anywhere) else right now, especially back in bed (...with Jeremy). He's pretty sure he doesn't suceed though, because Sandra's smile is wide and bright like a shark's.

"Okay, so, now that we're all here folks," Simon says, snapping his gaze away from Sandy's and rapping first one fist then the other down onto the tabletop, "let's try to forget or otherwise mentally repress everything that was said between me coming in here and Stone coming in, nice and deep so that it'll come back to cause you serious trauma in later life, and then let's get on with our _job_. Texas, what've you got for me?"

**Author's Note:**

> [This](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v84/bexless/glambert/epopkl.jpg) is the picture Mike's referring to, which came out in the middle of the Idol season and caused something of a minor scandal for Adam - who, bless him, refused to comment except to say that he wasn't at all ashamed of it. ♥.


End file.
